the undercurrent

i took a stroll through the indian summer.
a window along airport way:

an abandoned building. the foliage along the sides was inundated with wood spiders dangling at eye level. there was a setup amid the shrubbery for a cat- a box surrounded by food tins and a water dish. i was touched by that. it reminded me of the medinas of tunis.

the underpass of airport way:

inside the rainier cold storage building, through the window. this has always been one of my favorite structures in seattle. there are 'proposed land use' signs all over it- soon to be demolished. this is another scene i shall fantasize about- someone set that chair there and what- stared out at the sunshine? read a book? was straddled? wept?

rainier cold storage from the street. the original rainier brewery was fully demolished this summer- i have pictures on here somewhere from when it was first bulldozed and people left flowers in the fence in mourning. progress... i took a crumbly stone from the dusty remnants yesterday- to put beside my warped crowbar from the kingdome.

the vacuum/bible purveyor on 4th south:

cleanliness is next to g- never fucking mind.

class

in pioneer square, i was stared at by several elderly tourists whilst taking this picture.

next to the railroad tracks in ballard:

the (partial) spoils of a coworker's going-away party:

*
my very first boss was a screamingly Pseudo-Sensitive teva-wearer at AkPIRG. he had long luscious hair and a tattoo on his foot. his catchphrase was "so sayeth the shepherd..." whereupon we, the employees, would reply "so sayeth the flock." it was all very sarcastic. i was only fifteen and didn't find it especially amusing. but it is a phrase that, years later, gets stuck in my head ALL THE TIME, at least a few times a week... and it is here now... entirely inconsequential but i am sharing it anyhow.

fate has a funny way

i passed my first-term finals.
i saw dr dog.
my bank collapsed.
*
i am mortified to be from alaska... rather, i am ashamed that such ignorance, such arrogant bush-minus-penis BULLSHIT is being rendered synonymous with the land that reared me. between palin's fucking idiocy and ted stevens' bastardly glower, you'd think everyone from alaska is a chaw-chewin', gun-wrangling, meth-cookin' bible-thumping hick. i mean, fuck- replace the rifles with pistols and you may as well be describing 95% of washington too. although in washington you get surly looks if you don't recycle...
this was downtown, wednesday... a little gathering of earnestness. there was even a news crew there, which seemed silly.

i don't have a television, so i watched the ubiquitous katie couric foreign-policy interview on the library computers. i couldn't help thinking "jesus, that sounds like something i would say when i have no fucking idea what i'm talking about." i almot feel sorry for her, which immediately reminds me: if she was a he, would i have that (admittedly VERY WEAK) glimmer of empathy? no, absolutely not. i am a sexist asshole like everyone else.
on a related note, i love david letterman a little more after this week.
*
dr dog... OH MY GOD. they were so very, very good. it was a wholly glorious night. i had been waiting a long time to see them. delta spirit and hacienda opened. i have lengthy (and almost unwatchably jostly) video of most of it, again rendered untransferable due to my pithy connection.
we were squashed in the back. this is a horribly unfocused picture of half the band.

and the lead singer, the growly one, gettin hisself all sweaty.

on the sidewalk of my street:

and another art window on broadway:

i have a week off from school. next term: kinesthiology and myofascial work. i may take the train to portland, or not. fall is always my favorite season...

...so he wiped his ass with the rabbit

blogger and videos do not coexist. this is an extremely frustrating and time-consuming lesson. my poorly edited videolas, therefore, shall remain for my eyes only.
the lead singer of spiritualized, who did not address the audience at all. nor did he take off his sunglasses. blurriness is his comeuppance.

several blocks of businesses along broadway are vacant (including the hostel/doss house i stayed at when first arriving in seattle in 1996), awaiting demolishment for the new light-rail station. they have become a series of rotating art exhibits in the meantime. it is fucking awesome. some are inside the storefronts. this is attached to the old jack in the box.

vincent bugliosi, looking very fucking old.

walking home. this is at the top of itchykoo park/toker's paradise (the actual municipal moniker is "bhy krake park", honestly) next to my lair. it is a happy place. the vantage point makes me feel like i've done something right...

the first term of school ends next wednesday. i am startled at how much i know- and horrified by how little i still retain.
listened to 'renaissance' on lp this morning. the sky has been a hazy orange hue today- forest-fire gold and muggy as fuck. it was almost 80 degrees earlier: people in summer garb, sillouhetes against the sidewalk. 'twas a waking dream.

he's a mormon. we're all drunks.

j and i saw 'burn after reading' yesterday. it was mediocre. brad pitt was fucking great, and i am cringing at having typed that sentence.
afterwards i saw spiritualized. i was slappin'-distance of the lead guitarist's ass- and oddly, as it occured to me whilst walking home, i never saw his face. he wears ill-fitting black levi's and work boots, though, and the stage lights made a halo around his dark hair.
they were great until what i imagine was their final song- it disintegrated into a self-indulgent dirge- rather, an IRRITATING FUCKING CACOPHONY- that went on for at least six minutes. i was pushed against the stage- actually, not pushed, for it was a decidedly docile crowd- and watched the audience go from listless bouncing (all one can really hope for in seattle; i am guilty of it too) to bemused atony. it was fucking painful to continue standing there, watching them suddenly suck so badly. and i had a bus to catch. so i left. they opened the show with my favorite song, the song that i listened to OVER AND OVER right after leaving t (see dec-jan 2006, or don't- actually, please don't), and i have very nice video of it that perhaps i will someday post.
but overall: yay! i needed that! yay!
*
s called today. she is coming to seattle for my birthday. the whole goddamn weekend! i am so fucking excited. in fact, i am smiling foolishly at this very moment...
*
massage school: the first term ends next week. i massage a friend, not a classmate, tomorrow. he is a licensed masseur. i am a bit nervous, for several reasons. and today i had the epiphany in class that the instructors warned us about the first week, the epiphany that i scoffed at. i thought: "i do not want to be fucking touched today. at all." my partner was the class's only smoker and she was practicing on my arms and chest. her breath was terrible and i was feeling clausterphobic. and guilty. the first few weeks of school were full of giddy "wow that feels AMAZING" pap; now we all know how the sequences go, what feels right and what doesn't, and we're all a lot more critical and impatient. perhaps massaging someone new will be better after all...? i still love to give massages. i feel like i've gotten my flow down. i am relaxed enough to sense what they, as an individual, need, rather than just focus on how to do the strokes- because everyone is so fucking different. i appreciate the human body even more now. how people's skin feels, where they palpably carry tension, how they breathe, what their expressions convey- we are amazing animals.
i am using my student id to procure a free hour at this here cafe; i am here all the time. the guy at the counter just said "i am always needing a free massage and i know you need the hours." i am already flushed with my one glass of (prissy, but it's hot in here) chardonnay, but this pleases me.
*
at instances like this i must reflect on the nuances of my life and think "overall, fuck yeah."
*
... so 'leisureville'? the book about the vast retirement community ("55 years young!") in florida, with the slutty pathos and artifice galore? i doubted its existence. so i found it online. the site is horrifying, complete with a ghastly theme song. i sent away for information (according to 'the villages', the name of the community, i am "evelyn peterson") and it arrived last week. several packets of their various home layouts (complete with screened lanais for 'at home entertaining') AND a dvd that i have yet to watch... i showed the paraphenalia to j. he made a smartass and very accurate comment about the 'racial representation' on the cover of the pamphlet- representation which, i know from the book, to be inaccurate- there were perhaps 6 couples in the sprawling morass of 'the villages' who were not blindingly caucasian, as well as a transsexual who felt extremely out of place.
'leisureville'- it is good and should be read by many people, if only to determine how you DON'T want to age.
*
as i age: i just want to be in control of my faculties, both physical and mental, and surrounded by love and thriving plants and good smells. greedily, i think it would take all of that to keep me truly happy.

wearing my love like heaven

in my ethics class at massage school, a large amount of time has been devoted to 'owning our emotions.' "no one else has the ability to make you feel anything" says the teacher. "you decide how to react to a situation." this concept is being stressed as primarily a 'defense' against future clientele who may be needy/unsalubrious/draining- we need to have the ability to 'shake off' their energy so we don't make it ours. and touch is an excellent conduit for feeling like we understand and relate to another person more than we actually do...
it has made the last few days of extracurricular shite a lot more seamlessly dealt with. after feeling like a bruised fucking flower it occured to me: do i want to be happy or sad? who is this person to me, anyhow? how are they worth one fig of my time? and the sun literally came through the clouds, i breezily said aloud "fuck it", and jumped on my trampoline to led zeppelin.
*
life is far more manageable when viewed as an intriguing novel that i am a comical character in. as long as this novel makes me want to keep reading it, i'm golden.
*
that was awfully fucking treacly.
*
i would have been married for 5 years on thursday. i remembered halfway through the day. this also helped my mood shift to the better. i thought "i'm so much fucking better off." i still, obviously, get angry. and sad. and i feel really fucking cheated sometimes. and occasionally i miss the shit out of him. once loved, always loved, even if i never want to see or hear from him again. it makes me wonder what the fucking point is: accumulation of memories? is that what life is essentially about?
*
i had a dream last night that i was having to perform various gymnastic/range-of-motion shoulder sequences for two of my coworkers. they were standing on either side of me, looking solemn. i was supine on my bed and my hair was falling out in handfuls. they were impassively watching me get more and more flustered. i woke to two of the cats flanking me instead, staring me down. they were out of food. it is nice to feel needed.